


Freefall

by waywarddreamer



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, POV Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Possessive Behavior, Slow Build, Triss is sweet as usual, Yennefer is only slightly creepy, Yennefer knows what she wants, also Yennefer beats the shit out of someone, deep down Yennefer is a hopeless romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywarddreamer/pseuds/waywarddreamer
Summary: It’s not an obsession.Even if she wakes up to Triss’s name rolling off her lips.
Relationships: Eskel/Triss Merigold, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	Freefall

**Author's Note:**

> I had this in my drafts for six months. It took a long time to get this story together so I hope you guys enjoy it! I know Trissefer fans are pretty much starved for content at this point.

The first time Yennefer notices her, she was making out with her almost-boyfriend next to the pool table in some dingy bar she can’t recall the name of. Soft brown eyes twinkle at her, a whisper of congratulations across the room, before one winks and the woman walks away. Something about that woman, called to her, shook Yennefer down to her core. Geralt’s eyes were still closed, enraptured by her taste. The moan that escaped her was not from the way his hands were grabbing onto her ass, but the lingering warmness of those eyes.

Yennefer does not have the time to get a name, too distracted by the fact she and Geralt had only been staking out the place their client had mentioned this was the bar their suspect frequented, but she does manage to learn the woman’s schedule from the locals there. It’s Yennefer’s mission to find her again no matter what. And to think they say the life of PI is unglamourous.

The second time, Yennefer comes alone, black fingernails drumming on the polished wood table in front of her. A broken light flickers overhead which the owner probably has no intention of fixing. A mix of certainty and impatience swirl around her and on cue the chime of a bell rang through the door. From where she sits, Yennefer still cannot get a good view of her face, a man almost as tall and broad as her Geralt, holds the door for her, playfully bowing, and Yennefer rolls her eyes at the display. The woman walks in the lowlight, strut confident yet slow, not afraid to take up space but in no rush to get there, Yennefer can still see the way the light sparkles off gold earrings. Yennefer returns to staring at the women’s date making sure to remember his face.

Pathetic.

She takes account of the time of her phone, while the date begins in front of her. The man seems to be a joker despite his imposing appearance— he is more than able to make her laugh. Her smile was infectious and she elbows the young man back as he teases her about something that makes her flush.

To her disappointment, it seems the date is going well.

They start drinking after a little bit and Yennefer makes herself comfortable before taking a sip of her own lukewarm beer.

It’s an hour before the woman finally moves towards the bathroom stumbling slightly. Yennefer’s eyes trail her all the while. Yennefer swallows the rest of her drink, waiting until she can feel the warmth against her stomach before she moves—eyes focused only on the path in front of her. The vibrations of the stained floorboards are a distant echo as she cracks open the heavy door and sees the woman, who is so focused on her own reflection that she doesn’t notice Yennefer.

Her hair frames her round face, cascading down past her chin. Freckles dot her cheeks, and she can’t stop herself from thinking of a future in which she kisses each and every one of them.

The woman is reapplying her lipstick, eyes squinting in concentration like she’s about to do some sort of medical procedure. The color—a blush pink—yet still bright and bold all the same. Suddenly, she fumbles, lipstick slips out of her grasp leaving a mark on her chin before it clatters harshly to the ground.

They both rush to pick up the fallen lipstick, their hands ghosting each other as Yennefer’s hand wraps around it. The woman takes a step back before Yennefer hands it to her.

“Thank you. I’m just so clumsy,” she sighs before looking at the dirty lipstick in her hand. She looks utterly distraught. “Sorry.”

It takes everything in Yennefer to stop herself from saying that it's not her fault like nothing else bad in the world ever could be. But Yennefer holds it in.

There are greater things at stake here, she knows how important first impressions are and she couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

Yennefer offers a soft smile, and unzips her purse pulling out her own blood-red lipstick— darker, bolder and more seductive.

“This will look great on you—”

“Triss.”

Her eyes are absolutely glued to Yennefer’s lipstick, staring as though Yennefer had contained the secrets of the universe in the tube she now offered her . This woman, Triss, looked oh so innocent, that she almost didn't want to touch her, almost wanted to hand her the lipstick and walk away. Let her remain the person she would tell her friends about in passing whenever the memory would strike her.

Almost.

“Yennefer,” she says, letting it drag out of her tongue slowly like a painful secret. Something worth remembering. “Let me.”

She walks closer, lays a gentle hand on Triss’s soft cheek, the freckles even more noticeable in the soft light of the bathroom. Yennefer slowly lifts her chin up before laying the lipstick on her bottom lip, watching as it glides perfectly on, running her thumb lightly across her chin to fix where it smudged underneath. Yennefer does the upper lip as well, she refocuses her gaze on Triss’ lips so she doesn’t have to stare into those eyes and inevitably does something that she will regret.

The fact that she’s letting Yennefer do this means so much more than Triss will ever know. She steps away, and the woman gives her that same soft smile.

“Thank you, Yennefer.”

No one has ever said her name like she does, with such care and gentleness—and such a finality that they will never meet again.

Triss stands up a little bit straighter, confidence exuding from her as she leaves, the bathroom door swinging shut behind her. Yennefer holds the napkin with the smeared lipstick on it, and rubs her thumb over it. The pink stains its way across her skin, before she pockets it in her purse. Yennefer sits down to the man staring down at Triss’s lips like she was a four-course meal.

He won’t be around for long.

Later on, that napkin haunts her— only serving as a reminder which allowed her thoughts to keep consuming her. sometimes in her apartment, she would gravitate towards the window, looking out towards where the bar stood. She ignores Geralt’s famous puppy eyed look while they pour over info they managed to scrounge from the scraps they managed to hound the police into giving them. Somehow through her wandering thoughts they manage to find the missing piece, but she still doesn’t feel any kind of comfort. There is another, far more pressing case worth working on.

The solitude she once found devastating was now a comfort, allowing her to focus on her thoughts, which, no matter what she did, would somehow always circle back to Triss. She sits down on the edge of her couch, eyes looking at the napkin and the gift that resided within, tracing the edges of the imprint left by lips she longed to kiss one day.

With finality, she stands up and heads towards her laptop. Maybe she could indulge just this once.

-

“Yennefer!” A cheerful voice brings her out of her thoughts.

She could hear that name fall out of her mouth and never get tired of it. Of course she cannot let her know that. She simply hums, raising an eyebrow as Triss appears next to her, suddenly painfully aware of how close they are. Triss brushes against her, clearly not a stranger to touch, her smile seems to never fade. As natural a fixture of warmth as the rest of her disposition, Yennefer thinks that her aura alone could cause the blossoms underneath her to bloom to the fullest.

Focus.

She returns to looking at the sunflowers in front of her .

“You don’t seem like the flower type.” _But you are._

They are standing in a small florist shop which is thriving despite the chivalry that seemed to be leaving men these days. She gave out a burst of hearty laughter, “Never thought you would be the one to judge by appearances.”

It’s all in jest but the way Triss’s smile faded told her all the information that she needed. She’s going to have to tread lightly, carefully here. One wrong move and she could be given the cold shoulder and she’d lose her forever. It’s been a long time since she’s had a challenge, not since that cold case about five years back.

Unlike that case, there was no reference for her to start from, barely any clues that others have gathered. Yennefer is aware, she can sense the excitement in her bones after many years of being restless, after many years of taking the same cases over and over again. Something new for her to sink her teeth into, and her eyes drift back over to where Triss’s hair rests around her neck. Time for her to really see if she’s got it. Time to take her chance.

“How was your date?” Yennefer asks, earnestly, giving the younger women her full attention.

Triss’s brow furrows at the questioning, and she freezes, wondering if she had slipped up before something seems to click in Triss’s head and that hearty smile returns as she launches into a detailed account of that fateful night. Yennefer finds it amusing how much Triss doesn’t know that her life is about to change. Not because of him, either.

If she was bothered by her snark earlier, Triss doesn’t mention it, her focus completely overtaken by the new topic. Yennefer herself finds it odd that she doesn’t feel that upset like she normally would, something about her voice, hearing the inflections of it, the excited hitches in her breath when she talks about the good parts and the muddled confusions whenever he did something Triss disliked. Yennefer responds at the right parts, her body moving automatically as she zoomed in on every detail, a skill that she had learned to blend in over the years. Triss doesn’t even notice the way she leads her towards the roses. It’s almost too easy.

“Do you plan on seeing him again?” Triss’s smile rewards her with all the info she needs to know.

She could do so much better. Yennefer thinks if she would take her on a date, it wouldn’t be in a dirty bar whose floors haven’t been cleaned since they were opened. She would take her some place small, intimate, so she could see every individual freckle, how the soft lighting would illuminate every part of her. Would have planned the date for the morning, so she could see her beauty, see what she’s really like before she’s all dolled up.

“Here,” she says, handing the carefully laid bouquet in her arms, so softly that it even shook her to the core, “for good luck.”

Triss gasps in delight as she runs her fingers over the petals, her nails the exact same color.

“I think I like you, Yennefer,” Triss says, and Yennefer knows that she’s sincere. She doesn’t say anything about the eyes glued to her back of head as she walks out, how normally a gaze like that would put her on edge, would have her head whipping around for the suspect. It would be unflinching as she stared at him back, letting him know that she was never one to back down.

But in her gaze, she feels warm, like she’s resting in a lily-covered field and the sun is peeking over the mountain—like time exists but she doesn’t care and she never would again.

Upon finishing their meal, Yennefer offers to walk her to her car and she accepts. Triss is oddly quiet, as they walk, but it’s not uncomfortable,instead she can hear the beginning of something new between them. Triss smiles, before checking her watch, and there’s something shining there—it’s mischief.

“Check your pocket.”

Triss takes the opportunity to drive off, just as she reaches into her pocket, and she can see that look from her rearview mirror. Triumphant, in her hands is Triss’ number. It’s one thing to look for it, but it's an entirely different thing to be given it. She stands there, looking at the cursive on the receipt, a little flower drawn above the I. The world moves by, her mind racing, as a hot familiar feeling runs through her—the dangers of passion.

There is one thing that she knows.

Triss does not love her.

But she will.

-  
It’s not an obsession.

Even if she wakes up to Triss’s name rolling off her lips.

She’s better than those men in those trashy romance movies that drool or whine whenever they are not the center of attention. Love like that is not worth chasing, and even for a wonder such as Triss Yennefer would never degrade herself acting like that.

Yennefers learns she never has to—not with Triss.

It’s seamless how they understand each other, prying more and more, but never too far. They both knew that they needed to see each other. Within the following week they are at a cafe eating lunch together, in a place she makes sure to choose for the way the light hits the tables through the front window—something they will remember after all the years.

It’s not until she really spends time with her that it cements that Triss is exactly what she needs.

Triss is as bubbly as she is mischievous, and yet almost annoyingly kind. It’s fascinating to observe, and out of habit she finds herself taking mental notes. The almost innocent air around her draws people to her like a magnet and Yennefer sighs as she's forced to stop several times on their way to the cafe so Triss can have a conversation with a complete stranger.

Throughout their lunch, Triss leans over, conspiratorially grasping at Yennefer’s arm several times to remark on how well-dressed someone is or how lovely they look and laugh good-naturedly. Touch so effortlessly and yet so briefly granted, enough to make a person want another taste, quick to wrap an arm around Yennefer’s own, mind seeming to always drift off to somewhere else.

It’s such a welcome change from the people she normally works around, that she allows herself to let her guard down for a little while. It’s something she’ll have to get used to, anyway, if this is going to go the way she plans.

So she tells her all the tidbits that she needs to know. Her childhood with Tissaia (skipping all the parts that would be best going unmentioned), where she was from, her interests. Yennefer waits for it.

“Do you work for the police force?” Triss asks suddenly and Yennefer bristles at the very thought. If it wasn’t for the work that her and Geralt did 90% of the cases would be left cold.

“No, I’m a PI,” she says, almost preening. It wasn’t an easy career, but it was one she took pride in, being able to help those who would be ignored otherwise, those who didn’t have the money to keep persisting and pushing for justice. She rolls her eyes just thinking about being forced to report to someone.

Triss gives that same smile, although now noticeably more relaxed and much more open, “I see,” she says, continuing, before an almost naughty look appears on her face.

“Yennefer? Working with others? Never.”

Yennefer gives her a cunning smirk at her very correct accusation before pulling out her card to pay.Triss begins to protest but Yennefer shakes her head, “Pretty ladies don’t pay.”

Triss’ squeak made the whole thing worth it, but the edges of her lips turned upward into a smile all the same.

At first, Triss checks her phone several times during their meal, but only until Yennefer eventually distracts her enough to stop. Always giving her just a little bit of what she knows, makes herself an enigma, something to be watched closely and worthy of being observed. She can see the sparks in Triss’s mind working, and she realizes they are more alike than she would have thought.  
-

She has them both now, the napkin, and the folded receipt. To others trophies, perhaps, but to her, a paper trail that she can follow, something tangible to keep track of. She has them in her drawer next to her folders, full of notes and pictures and webs and webs of research, and yet those two, the most seemingly innocuous of the drawer’s contents are the ones that she spends the most time looking at.

The puzzle with the most missing pieces. She cannot rest until she finds them all.

The opportunity comes to her sooner than she imagined.

It’s some random Saturday, after a hard Friday night of scoping out clubs for a possible connection to her recent cases for which she barely got any clues. Yennefer had planned to just stay home and rest when she receives a text from Triss with an offer she can’t refuse.

‘Want to come out with me tonight?’

That’s how an hour later she ends up in a black cocktail dress at a bar. Triss is humming the lyrics to some cheesy pop song next to her as multicolored lights flash around them. Their glasses clink as they toast, and downed what was their third drink for the night. Yennefer despises being in places like this, but with Triss, she finds it almost bearable.

“I cannot believe you drink that stuff,” Triss says as though she is actually scandalized by the scotch in Yennefer’s hand as she feigns throwing up before sipping her own martini, and Yennefer smirks.

“Some of us don’t like a mouth full of sugar,” she says, before shooting the rest of the scotch in her glass. Triss raises an eyebrow at the display, seemingly caught between impressed and vaguely concerned but only for a second, before she gets up to go order them another drink. Yennefer follows her movement across the bar until something moving a little too quickly just out of the corner of her vision catches her attention.

Yennefer shifts slightly, pretending to not notice then that she does in fact recognize the man. She hadn’t seen him since the night at the bar but she could smell his insecurity wafting from all the way across the crowded room all the same. Debating her next move, she shoots a quick glance over to Trisswho is already deeply enthralled in another conversation with the bartender. The man sidles slowly up beside Yennefer, eyes and jaw set, and she does the same.

He leans over Yennefer, in some laughable attempt to intimidate her, probably. She smiles at him, saccharine and artificial, making sure the cockiness is just dripping from her teeth.

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispers, breath filled with ire, “I won’t let that happen.”

“Who are you to stop me?”

A gentle touch on her arm stops their staring contest  
.  
“Eskel.” Triss’s tone is unnaturally harsh, a complete divergence from her normal sunny one. Yennefer has never heard it before, and finds herself staring at Triss in adoration. The man bristles at the way her voice harshens, deepens and Yennefer ignores him to watch this scene unfold in front of her.

The anger looks foreign on her, sounds unsettlingly alien in her voice—a stranger there— and that makes her all the more formidable. Eskel takes a step back, still staring, albeit somewhat unsettled, at Triss.

She stares right back at him, an unflinching display of strength that Triss rarely shows coming to the surface. In defense of her. Well then. Yennefer can work with this.

“What are you doing?” Triss demands, more a threat than a question as she glowers at him.

He shoots Yennefer a sidelong glare before turning back to Triss, quick to avoid her eyes in favor of looking anywhere else, “I came to get you.”

Yennefer leans forward, taking another sip of her drink that Triss had just set down in front of her to show just how uninterested she was by his little display and the way his fist clenches by his side in response makes her want to laugh. He had no idea just how much worse she could be.

How, if she let herself go, he would no longer be an issue.

“No,” Triss says, clearly leaving no room for argument.

Yennefer makes sure Eskel can see her smug glance, his mouth gape at Triss’ denial. He must be used to getting his way. Yennefer’s glad to see her influence on Triss has indeed been a positive one or—another thought comes to Yennefer, one which had been residing there in the periphery of her mind the entire time.

“Triss, something’s off with her, I can tell,” Eskel protests, balling his fists even tighter as he advances on Yennefer. Triss moves in between the two with a fire in her eyes that Yennefer has never seen before, daring him to come closer to her friend. Yennefer’s smile is a proud one, although she wishes he would persist just so she could get an excuse to kick his ass.

“Leave.” Triss whispers, quiet but with finality. Like the rumble before the lightning strikes, it hits Yennefer in her chest just right and she wants to run towards the storm, if only to hear the wind whistle past her hair.

“Now.”

He slinks away under her gaze and she can tell that others are beginning to watch the interaction. The bartender motions for the bouncer, who begins making his way towards them. Eskel looks between the bouncer and the people watching him, decides it's not worth it and hurries towards the exit.

Triss stares after him, before shaking her head and grabbing her drink. Yennefer licks her lips to stop the desire from dripping off them. Turns out she didn’t mind being there anymore.

And just like that, Triss is back to her old self again, but Yennefer cannot get that image out for the rest of the night. Underneath the table, Triss holds her hand.

That moment is what she takes home that night, writes it on the inside of her notebook, and remembers it, tucks it away in her drawer, and Yennefer knows she's about to hit a breakthrough.

Next week, it’s over. Finally over.

“I swear Yennefer,” Triss sighs, face still red and puffy from crying her eyes out, “It seems you're the only one I can trust.”

Yes. It’s a constant thrum in her head, and she tenses to stop herself from reaching out. To stop that ache deep inside of her.

As Triss sobs into her shoulder Yennefer pulls her onto her lap and Triss doesn’t hesitate to snuggle into her. Shuddering against her, Triss’ the tears soak into her shirt like she’s grabbing onto Yennefer for dear life. Yennefer raises a cautious hand—she has never been good with emotions, especially her own, but she can try for her. Only her. She gently strokes Triss’ hair, feeling how soft it is underneath her palms and Triss relaxes at the touch.

Yennefer’s head is pounding, relieved that it’s working.

“I’m going to kill him,” Triss whimpers, still crying but there is a fire that runs underneath her throat. Yennefer cannot keep her thoughts from drifting away from her, and wonders if Triss would ever actually make good on that promise.

Triss falls asleep before she does, having exhausted all her energy crying. Yennefer watches Triss slumber, then focuses on her pink lips, and suddenly she’s so close and yet so far.

Yennefer falls asleep to the image of Triss’s face.

The sun has long gone down by the time they both wake up from their nap. Triss flushes at their closeness before she leaves to the kitchen, and Yennefer misses the feel of her body already.

Triss recovers quickly after a good cry, Yennefer learns. If she wasn’t there, she would have never known that she had even cried to begin with but Triss is quick to pour some liquor for the both of them anyway.

It’s some remix of an old song that Triss plays from her speaker that she cannot identify. All Yennefer knows is that it’s slow; bassline heavy as Triss starts to sway to the music without a single care in the world. Yennefer watches as she drunkenly dances around her living room, hips moving to the rhythm. She cannot stop her eyes from catching at the bottom of her t-shirt, and the smile that rises to her face is for once not calculated but true. Triss leans down, singing the lyrics as she cups Yennefer’s face and she finds herself leaning into her palms. Something slides into her expression and in the dim light Yennefer cannot quite make out what it is.

“Dance with me.”

And she does.

In the little world of Triss’s apartment, they twirl around each other, hearty laughter building up in their throats. The lights are shining beautifully off of Triss’ skin, becoming just another part of her. If Yennefer wasn’t in love, it would damn near now be envy. Triss is not afraid to be hurt— to let the dark sides of herself show. She’s so free.

Yennefer doesn’t want to let go, needs to catch more of that spirit. When she breathes, Triss’s hair is tickling her face while the song changes to an even slower one that seems to shake the room under their feet.

Triss is smiling against her, teasing her without thinking that she knows. A whiff of her perfume hits her nose and Yennefer holds her even tighter, a haze of lust overcoming her as Triss grinds against her. Her hand makes its way down Triss’ thigh. An inch lower, and she could slip her fingers under the edge of lace. Yennefer can see herself already kneeling for her. But she waits. Even though it feels like the beast inside of her is crying, mourning. And when her hands grab onto her waist and Triss doesn’t pull away, her smile is a cunning one.

Somehow they had danced themselves into her bedroom and she awakes to an empty bed, but theair is filled with the smell of bacon.

Triss is cooking in the kitchen and it's so domestic that she cannot help but see their future together. It becomes more normal than she thinks. Triss will smile, take her hand and lead her to her bedroom whenever she stays up too late or insists on going home in the middle of the night.

Waking up to her everyday, and when Triss leaves for work, she sits at the kitchen counter with the thrum that she has gotten in too deep.

And she doesn’t regret it.  
-

There is no label for whatever this is. Yennefer knows that they are something more. No matter how long it takes for Triss to realize it. She can see the way Triss looks at her differently now, whenever she is looking at her case files and Triss sits on the couch, she feels her gaze on her. Triss was never good at masking her emotions, and that’s when Yennefer sees the love trickle into her eyes.

The way Triss would always linger after a long day together, hesitant to leave, her lips always just about to form the words yet she doesn’t. Yennefer teases her more now, after all she’s waited this long, why not have a little fun? She wears more clothes that pop, catch Triss’s attention, makes sure her jewelry flows down to her neckline, and she sees Triss eyes dilate to pure want.

Triss frowns at any woman who glances her way, and the pout almost makes Yennefer want to laugh, but instead, she focuses all her attention on Triss who seems to melt. Yennefer’s surprised when she asks her about Geralt, surprised that she could remember him after all that time. She shrugs, and acts like she has no idea what she’s talking about. Yennefer enjoys watching her fume. While she is a tease, even she can’t hold out for too long, and it’s about time. They were gravitating to each other and for once Yennefer submitted herself to the idea wholeheartedly.

Triss holds her hand as they walk through the small alleyway on the way to her favorite hole-in the wall diner. When a man ducks across their path with crazed eyes, yelling something fierce, she holds out her arm, reacting before Triss even knew he was there. Yennefer recognizes the shamed politician from years ago, and ironically, of all the bastards she put away, he would have been the last she would have expected to come after her.

All over what? A cheating scandal? She’s put away men for less with ten times his paycheck.

She could forgive this sloppiness if it was just her, but there’s something more important than the bad blood between them.

His eyes dart to Triss at the same time hers do, and the sickening smile splits his face even further. He lunges without warning, with a guttural roar in his throat. It’s a pathetic try and his form is absolutely terrible but that means nothing to her right now.

The threat alone is enough. The fact that he looked at Triss and decided to go for her instead enraged her— she can feel herself spiraling and she didn’t care to stop.

She knocks the weapon out of his inexperienced hands with ease.

He finches back and she doesn’t know if it’s from the look in her eyes or the force she put into the first hit that sends him slamming into the ground.

Yennefer blacks out. Someone is screaming, her knuckles hurt at first but it dulls as she gets used to the feeling of it coming down against solid bone.

“Yennefer,” Triss whispers, so soft she can barely pick up on it, everything is so loud and she could stop but she doesn’t want to.

Someone is yanking her off him, her knuckles ache, and something wet is dripping down her face—Geralt is holding her back. She attempts to shake him off but that mountain of man prevents her—there’s not enough blood and there’s no more screaming but somehow she knows that the job isn’t finished.

A tight squeeze of his arm around her torso with a calm gruff voice,“Calm down.”

She looks up to see Triss covering her face in horror and suddenly she’s aware of just how much blood there is.

Geralt waves the both of them off to handle the scene and they walk back into Triss’s apartment together in silence.Triss is not happy at all and Yennefer already knows she is in for it. And yet, even though Triss is fuming, she still takes her hand and wraps it slowly in gauze, watching the blood stain the wrapping. The silence is far too heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Yennefer says,

That you had to see that.

Triss doesn’t know that half of her. Doesn’t know how much power she has over Yennefer, the hold that she has on her spirit, that if she wanted her to, she would hunt someone down to the ends of the earth for her if she asked. But Triss never would.

Triss isn’t even looking at her, just leaning heavily on the counter with Yennefer’s blood still underneath her nails. She moves towards Triss, slow enough that she doesn’t startle her. It hurts her to see her like this.

“I was afraid, Yenna.” The nickname brought flutters to her stomach. “Don’t ever do that again.”

She cannot promise it. Knows that in her line of work she would have to do it over and over again. But for Triss, the lie is worth it, so she nods, praying that it is enough.

Yennefer turns Triss around so she can see her, wipes the tears off her cheek and waits. Triss’ eyes dart Yennfer’s thumb stroking her cheek and her lips. There's a sharp intake of breath as Triss realizes just how close they are, and Yennefer waits.

This is the moment she has been waiting months for—since the moment she saw her in that bar. Triss eye’s soften, slowly warming up to the color of warm molasses at the presence of her touch. And Yennefer knew right then that she was about to experience a miracle. Triss lifts her head up and leans forward, closing the gap between them.

When they finally kiss, everything stops. The shadow stills until she can’t hear it anymore. Yennefer picks her up, needing more of that light, needs it to filter inside of her, showing her the pieces that she had been so desperately missing.Triss’s legs wrap around hers as she digs deeper, tasting every inch of her sweetness. Triss is the first to pull away, looking at the blood that still stains Yennefer’s face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Triss says, eyebrows furrowing as if the very thought hurts her soul, even though that want is clear in her eyes and Yennefer laughs softly. She can see herself in Triss’s eyes. Her bloody knuckles and her once crazed eyes now tamed in her gaze and her reflection looks so soft—like she can fall apart.

It doesn’t bother her.

Yennefer thinks about the pieces of her that she salvaged when they first met, and realizes she will never have to do that again.

“No,” Yennefer whispers, leaning forward, “Please do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Likes, comments, and kudos are very much appreciated. <3


End file.
